


When You Least Expect It: Just Between Friends, Part Two

by marblecutprincess



Series: Just Between Friends [2]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marblecutprincess/pseuds/marblecutprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of the Just Between Friends series, focusing on the relationship between Natasha Romanova and Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can Only Be Cooped Up for So Long

  Natasha had been watching Tony, cooped up and stressed out, in his lab for weeks. He'd been pacing back and forth between the lab and his office, practically wearing tracks in the carpet and his hair had reached an entirely new level of disheveledness. Tony was a frazzled mess of nerves and tension, and he needed a break from whatever he was working on or he'd crash and burn in more ways than one. When he got like this, he stopped sleeping and nearly stopped eating, his scotch intake increased exponentially and he couldn't stop his brain if he tried.

  Tony had been especially bad lately. Pepper had up and walked out on him one night, telling him she couldn't take it anymore, that she had better places to be wasting his life. No one had seen him for three days after that; he'd locked himself in a dark room and drank himself half to death on good scotch and cheap cinnamon whisky. When no one had heard from him, they called Natasha to investigate knowing that if anyone could get through to Tony, it was her.

  Once she managed to work around JARVIS' security measures and get into Tony's apartment at the top of the Tower, she called 911. Tony was unconscious in a pool of his own sick; Natasha preformed CPR and got him breathing while waiting for the paramedics. They later told her she'd saved his life and asked if she would stick around once he woke up; she didn't want to, and she certainly didn't want him to know it was her he had to thank. Once the paramedics left, she set to cleaning up his mess as much as possible, including threatening bodily harm on anyone who leaked the story to the press.

  The doctors released him a few days later. Rather, he _paid_ the doctors to let him out and returned to work that afternoon, pretending nothing had happened. Natasha kept a close eye on him, watching Tony throw himself into his work even harder. One night after everyone had gone home, she watched Tony destroy the lab, flipping steel tables, breaking glass, yelling and screaming. He stopped just as quickly as he'd began, collapsing to the ground behind one of the overturned tables. Natasha wanted to go to him, to say something, but instinct told her not to, and she crept out of the tower careful not to draw any attention to herself. The next morning she returned to work as usual and found the lab closed off with yellow tape, a large sign taped to the door: LAB UNDER CONSTRUCTION. KEEP OUT. She kept her mouth shut and her head down, but she kept an eye on Tony all the while.

  He had his good days and his not so good days, and then he had his worse days. Days where he came in before everyone else and left long after, if he even left at all. Some mornings Natasha would slip in and see him changing out of the day befores clothes, splashing cold water on his face and running wet fingers through his hair. On those days, she re-routed all non-essential calls to her office and signed papers that needed his signature. She kept an eye on everyone coming and going from his office and how stressed Tony looked after. Eventually, she would go home and tony would still be locked in his office, a desk lamp on and his head buried in stacks of work. On his worst day, he threw a glass of scotch through his floor to ceiling window and got a piece of glass in his hand. Natasha called medical up and had them patch up Tony's hand while she called a glass shop to repair the window. Tony hardly noticed her, he was so agitated, but she was there.

  After watching him tear his hair out for weeks, literally and figuratively, Natasha knew she needed to do something to distract him before he did something really bad. He was in his office with his head buried in a stack of paperwork when she decided to intervene. She stepped into his office and carefully crept towards him. Tony didn't even notice when she came in and didn't lift his head until she was sitting on the edge of his desk, pulling the papers away from him. “Tony...you've been cooped up in here all day. You're gonna drive yourself insane if you don't take a break.”

  He looked up at the redhead, his brown eyes drowning in the dark circles under his eyes. “What? Wait, I have? I just got here...”he mumbled, trying to pull the papers back. “Tony, it's four in the afternoon, you've been here since five this morning. Come on, it's time to get out of here.” Natasha kept her hand on the papers, not budging as she watched the realization slowly fall across Tony's face. “It's...four? Shit, where has the day gone? I've got so much to d...” he was cut off by Natasha putting a finger to his lips. He cocked an eyebrow at her, confused.

  “No, you don't. Come on, you haven't eaten all day, Tony. You look like hell and like you could use a break, let's go. I'll drive, just come on.” She stood, taking his large hands in hers and pulling him to his feet. He shook his head, trying to clear it and groaned, “Yeah, food sounds good right now. Really good.” He reached for the hoodie he kept behind his door and followed Natasha out into the hallway leading to the elevator. He pulled the hood up and tucked in behind her. “Have I really been there all day, Nat? I could swear I just got in...”

  “You've been like that all week, Tony, it's time we got your mind off work and onto something else. Something fun...You remember fun, right?” she poked him slightly, watching horror spread across his face. “Jesus, shit...All week? And I haven't even accomplished...Shit.” He leaned his head back against the glass with a hard _thud,_ wrinkling his nose and forehead. He closed his eyes and asked, “What's fun? I don't remember anymore. And where are we going anyways?”

  Natasha laughed lightly and slid next to him as the elevator descended, “We're gonna go get you some food. Anything you want, Tony. I'll drive.” “Oh, god no, not _your_ driving again. You're even worse than I am, Natasha, and that's saying something,” Tony winced dramatically, his hands covering his face to hide the laugh that was making its way up his throat and out his mouth. She punched him lightly in the shoulder, smiling at him. “Hey, ouch! I was kidding! Jesus you've got a nice right hook, Nat, where did you pick that up?”

  She grinned, “Budapest, naturally.” Tony rolled his eyes, scoffing, “What is it about you two and Budapest? No one else was there, no one else gets it...”

  “Exactly.” The elevator reached the garage where her car was parked and they stepped out, Nat beeping the key on her fob, locating her car. “So what sounds good Tony?”

  “Pizza. And beer. And more pizza.” He knew what he wanted and gave Natasha directions to his favorite pizza place. They got in and peeled out of the garage headed towards Moe's, and as Tony _so eloquently_ put it it, 'the best damn pie in the city.' As she drove, Tony fiddled with the stereo, turning knobs and punching buttons until he was satisfied, pointing to it with a grin.

  “There you go, Nat, fixed your stereo. You'll get twice the reception and bass, and now it's on the classic rock station. Hey, Big Balls!” Tony laughed as his favorite band filled the car; Nat just sat there and took it in stride, smiling with him. Anything that made Tony smile was good by Nat; she hadn't heard his laugh in months or seen a smile light up his face in weeks. Nat took it as a good omen and left the radio where it was tuned, not even complaining when the DJ played two more AC/DC songs.

  She followed Tony's directions and pulled into the worn down lot, a faded sign over the door said Moe's, and she followed as Tony nearly leapt out of the car. Inside, it was like a scene from an Italian restaurant in an old movie; walls covered in (fake) ivy, checkered booths with red vinyl table cloths, and a rather large man in back washing glasses who rushed to the front as soon as he saw Tony. He wobbled around the front counter, wiping his wet hands on the apron around his waist, a grin splitting his aging face nearly in two.

 


	2. A Scene from Moe's Italian Restaurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes Natasha to see an old friend, and dinner between friends quickly turns into a 'date'.

    “Tony! My friend, it has been too long! And you brought a _lady friend,_ oh! A beautiful lady friend at that. Welcome to Moe's, I am Moe,” the large man boomed, clapping Tony on the back before pulling him into a bear hug. Tony laughed, shaking his head, “Moe, you old bear, how are you? And no, this is no lady friend, this is Natasha.” Natasha punched him in the arm before shaking Moe's hand and smiling at him warmly.

    “The place is yours, old friend. Sit wherever you like, however your...usual...booth is empty. I'll be over shortly.” Moe walked back into the kitchen chuckling as Tony shook his head, a slight blush coming to his cheeks as he walked over to a booth. Nat followed and sat opposite him, facing the door as usual and asked, “So Tony. Is this your _usual_ booth, then? Do you take all your dates here?” Tony's eyes got wide as he stammered out, “This is a date? Since when? I didn't agree to this.” They both laughed at that before Tony paused to explain.

    “When I was a kid, we'd all come here for lunch or after class or when we'd skip. Moe's known me for years; I've spent many a night sobering up in the booth, or becoming less sober than normal depending on the night. And no,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at Natasha, “I don't bring all my dates here.” Moe wobbled over to the table, slightly out of breath when he arrived and put a hand on Tony's shoulder.

    “So. Tony. Mister I'm-Ironman-Big-Shot over here. You haven't come in in a long time, I'm here thinking you forget about old Moe. You know pretty lady, Tony here is like a son to me,” Moe thumped his chest proudly, beaming at Tony like a father would. “Who knew this snot nosed punk with his nose always buried in a book would save the world one day! I knew, I did, I just didn't want it to go to his big head! What you two want, Tony? You want your regular, or you taking this pretty lady out for something special, huh, huh?”

    Natasha laughed at that, taking a liking to the old man, “No, Moe, nothing special for me. Whatever Tony's having I'll have; he says you've got the best pie in the city.” Moe lit up at that, grabbing Nat's hand and shaking it.

    “Look at you, Mister Bigshot, you got yourself a smart lady over here. You bring her to Moe's and she says you tell her I've got the best pie? You keep this one, Tony, you take care of her and you bring her to Moe's more often.” Tony laughed nervously, calling after Moe as he waddled back, shaking his head. “She's not my...Ah forget it, he'll never let me live it down.” He shook his head, staring at his feet before Nat kicked him, bringing him back to the present. “What's the 'usual' anyway, Tony? What am I getting myself into here? Anchovies, peppers, pineapple and ham?” Natasha was curious; she'd never known Tony to eat pizza, never seen him order it in late at work. She'd seen all manner of takeaway brought in, everything from shawarma to babaganoosh, Philly cheese steaks to disco fries, but not once had she ever seen a single pizza box delivered to Tony's office.

    Leaning back in his booth and flashing her his usual snarky grin, Tony piped up, “What? Are you afraid you're not gonna like it? It's thin crust pepperoni with extra cheese, Tasha, totally normal.” He laughed and Natasha relaxed, “Oh, thank God it's not something weird. I don't know, Tony, you are a man of many wide and varied tastes. For all I know, you could like some weird things on your pie.” She ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the loose curls and shook her head, laughing with Tony. Moe returned shortly, two beers in one hand and a basket of hot bread in the other.

    “Hey look at you, you got the pretty lady to laugh! Was it one of your stupid jokes? If she laughed at one of those she must really like you, Tony. And you must like her to, you bring her to Moe's and you tell her about my pies...Ah you make an old man feel young again!” Moe's laughter boomed throughout the empty store as he set down the beers, his belly shaking as it bumped the table. Tony closed his eyes and shook his head, laughing at Moe and soon Natasha found herself laughing as well. She hadn't seen Tony laugh as much in three years as she had in thirty minutes; he seemed more relaxed here and the lines around his eyes less fierce. It had been a while since she'd heard his rich, throaty, full bodied laugh and it made Natasha feel better. “Your pie'll be out in a minute; tell me pretty lady? What you doing with a schmuck like Tony? He can offer you money, but can he offer you a full belly and a warm bed like old Moe? No!” Moe teased, shaking Tony's shoulder and thumping his chest proudly. He wiped a tear from his eye as he wobbled back to the kitchen, his laughter following him.

    “Yeah, pretty lady,” Tony teased, winking at her and clucking his tongue, “What _are_ you doing with a schmuck like Tony, as Moe put it? What's this about it?” He grabbed his beer and took a swig, eyeing her as she mimicked, swallowing before responding. “It's simple, really. You've been cooped up for weeks and you needed to get out. We're playing hooky, Stark, don't be in too much of a hurry to run back to teacher. You needed a day off, and here it is.” She reached for the basket of bread and broke off a piece, offering the rest to Tony which he greedily accepted.

    It was still warm and buttery and garlicky in her mouth, and she moaned appreciatively. Tony choked on his piece slightly, eyes wide at Natasha before swallowing and mumbling, “I know it's good, but I didn't realize it was _that_ good.” She blushed, something she didn't do often and laughed, “I haven't eaten all day. And you were right, this is delicious.”  “Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet, and speaking of which...”Tony trailed off, his eyes growing wide as Moe approached the table, carrying their pizza.

    Setting it down in front of them, Moe let out a low whistle, “It's a thing of beauty no? You're in for a treat, pretty lady, we made this extra special for you and Mr. Bigshot over here. I tell you what, if you like the pizza and get tired of Tony, you come bavk and see Moe. I'll treat you good, all the pizza you could eat, and a heart full of love, bella.” He mimed an arrow hitting him in the heart as he stared at Natasha, laughing thunderously and clapping Tony on the back. “You treat her good, Tony. I like this one, she has fire in her, you can tell by her hair.”

    “Jesus, Moe, you sound like Yentel more and more by the moment. You gonna let the pretty lady and I eat, or is this pizza gonna get ice cold before you let us be?” Natasha grinned at that and put her hand on Moe's large paw, “Thanks Moe, we'll take it from here. If Mr. Bigshot doesn't treat me right, you'll be the first one to know.”

    “Oh, bella, you do things to this old heart of mine! I better go before you get me in trouble!” he wobbled back to the kitchen as Tony cut into the first slice. He pulled it away from the pie, cheese strings dripping from the edges and folded it, stuffing it in his mouth. Nat grabbed a slice in the same way, dropping it to her plate before dabbing the grease off with her napkin. “Don't let Moe see you do that, he'll take it as an insult,” Tony said through a mouthful of pizza.

    “I could commit murder right here on this table, and I'm pretty sure Moe would think I hung the moon, Tony,” she replied with a shrug, a smile teasing up the corner of her mouth. She held up the piece to her mouth and took a bite, moaning once again. This time she didn't care if he heard her, she was too busy enjoying her meal. “What is this, Tasha? _When Harry Met Sally_ or something? Get a grip on yourself, woman.” He shook his head, laughing deeply before taking another swig of his beer. “You were right, Tony, this is the best damn pie in town. It's so good, how have I never been here before?”

    Tony shrugged and took another bite, “I didn't bring you, that's why. So if we're playing hooky, does that make this a date? Does that mean I'm buying?” He looked up, grinning sideways as she choked slightly. “No...No I can buy, and it's not a date. It's just a day offf, and from the looks of it, we both needed it.” She looked down at her pizza, blushing again, and this time Tony took notice of it. Her face flushed rose and it played off her eyes, Tony noticed, making them look an even deeper shade of emerald. Natasha was cute when she was flustered, and he liked flustering her, he decided.

    “I was kidding, Natasha. Of course I'll pay, it's the least I can do after you sprung me from the lab. You were right, I did need a day off. I'm going to kill myself up there one day, but I'm so close to a breakthrough...”he trailed off, absently eating another slice and staring at the salt and pepper shakers. He shook his head suddenly, coming back to the present, “Sorry, where was I?”

    “You were telling me how glad you are I broke you out of the lab for a day?” she mused, hiding the worry that crossed her mind when he mentioned his work killing him. After coming in to find him on the floor, she'd been especially watchful over him. “Oh, right. What do you say we make a day of it then, Tasha? We finish up here, you come back to my place for a few drinks? I just restocked the bar, there's a few things I'm itching to try...” Tony offered, winking as he finished his beer. He set his slice down and wiped his mouth, groaning aloud. He grinned at Nat, leaning in over the table conspiratorially, “So what's it gonna be, Romanov? Wanna come home with me? It'll drive Moe up a wall.”

    She laughed and leaned in even closer, “Sure, Stark, I'm game. Can you imagine Moe's face if he walked out and saw us like this?” “Like this? Like how?!”he smirked, grabbing her hand just as Moe came over. “Oh, look at you two love birds! It's ok, you can kiss, old Moe won't watch. Too much. Go on Tony, plant one on the pretty lady, I've seen the way she looks at you!” Moe taunted, holding his belly as he laughed. Tony winked at Nat and closed the gap between them, kissing her. 


	3. Don't Play Drinking Games with A Russian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss between friends leads to drinking, and Tony possibly biting off more than he can chew.

  It took Nat by surprise at first, the feeling of Tony's lips against hers. His mouth was softer than she imagined, and she had imagined it a time or two. Her hand cradled his cheek, moving instinctively as their mouths collided. He was hungry in more ways than one and so was she, Natasha realized. Just as she began to enjoy it, Tony pulled away. Clearing the obvious lump in his throat, Tony croaked, “That do it for you Moe, you dirty old man? The pretty lady and the rest of this pie are coming home with me. So sorry old friend, maybe next time the next pretty lady will accept your offer.” Moe stood there dumbfounded for a moment, completely speechless before his thunderous laughter commenced again. Wiping tears from his eyes on his apron, Moe replied, “Oh pretty lady, you got a keeper here with Mr. Bigshot. First, he take you to old Moe's here. Next, he buy you the best pie in town. Then, he kiss you. Oh boy it's like the olden days again, Tony. You stay out of trouble, I'll be back with a box for your pie.” Natasha sat there for a moment, hiding her face with her hand watching Moe hobble hid the counter and then turn to the kitchen, yelling in Italian.

  She sat back, running fingers through her hair, attempting to collect herself before speaking. “Wow, Tony, where did that come from?” He laughed, the one blushing now, and rubbed his chin. “Well let's call it a mixture of the pie, beer and the fact that you got me out of the office for the day. Literally, you made me so happy I could kiss you, and what do you know? I did. Did you catch the look on Moe's face? Oh god, it was like being fifteen again!” Tony's muffled laughter disrupted her thoughts and she caught herself laughing with him.

 She laughed, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. It was a joke, she told herself, a little kiss between friends as a joke. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't going to happen again, likely, but something inside her wanted it to. She watched as Tony shoveled the rest of the pizza into the box and threw a few twenties on the table. He stood and offered her his hand as she slid out of the booth. Moe saw them leaving, and the money on the table, practically chasing them into the lot, “Your money no good here, Tony!” He turned back, grinning and replied, “I know, Moe, I know. Thanks for the pie, it'll make great leftovers in the morning.”

  “You take care of that pretty lady, Tony, you bring her back to see Moe again before he gets old!” the large man hollered, his thunderous laughter filling the parking lot.

  Shaking her head, Natasha unlocked the car, sliding in before Tony. As he got in, he looked over at her with a playful wink. “Now, that wasn't so bad was it. Still wanna come back to my place, Tasha? You said we were playing hooky; if that's the case then let's play.” She rolled her eyes, “Am I going to regret breaking you out of the lab? We may as well make a day of it, sure, I'll come over.” Tony grinned and leaned back, tipping his sunglasses at her, “You're either the worst influence on me, or the best, and I haven't decided which. You know the way, Tasha, lead on.” He kicked his feet up on the dash and she frowned at him; he quickly tucked them back under him. “Don't scratch my baby, Tony. If you scratch her, I'll have to kill you.” She pulled out of the lot and took the back roads to the Tower, showing him the scenic route he often missed during his fly-by's. Soon, they were back in the garage, parking and riding the lift up.

  It was quiet in the lift, and Natasha hated the quiet almost as much as she hated the cold. Turning, she caught Tony leaning on the railing, watching the city sink beneath his feet as the lift went up. “You ever get tired of that, Tony? Watching everything shrink below you while you stay the same size?” He looked up at her and winked, pulling the toothpick he'd been chewing on out of his mouth and jiggling it between his fingers.

  “You know? I don't. I've done it in lifts my whole life, ever since I was a kid. I think that's why I like flying so much; watching all my problems down here literally shrink away to nothing until I'm so high above it all... they don't matter anymore. What about you, Natasha,” he breathed her name, eyeing her with interest, “Do you like flying?”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed, “I like take off and I like being up, it's the coming down I'm not overly fond of.” He nodded, “I've had a few bad come downs myself...”

  “So I've heard.”

  The lift reached Tony's floor and he stood back as the doors opened, “Oh please, ladies first.” They stepped inside, and Natasha took note of several changes since she'd last visited. He'd had the carpets re-done, shifted the leather couches, had the end tables polished. Anything to keep up appearances, she mused to herself, shaking her head softly. Tony strode in behind her and headed straight to the bar, mixing a drink. “Can I tempt you, _Agent Romanova?”_ he drew the name out like taffy on a stretcher; slowly, deliberately, watching the whole time for signs of weakness. “Perhaps some... _wodka?_ Stolichnaya, a drink to our fallen comrades?” He was joking of course, but it drew her in as she leaned over the bar.

  “You know I drink that like it's water, Tony, give me something new.” She watched him blink and then dip below the counter, fumbling for bottles of who knew what. He emerged with four bottles, a shaker, two rocks glasses and a devilish smile. “Ok, miss 'I-have-vodka-in-my-veins, I'll give you something new. Be warned, it's got one hell of a bite...If you like it, I might just even name it after you.” He propped the bottles in front him, hiding the labels and pouring them into the shaker like a mad scientist. A little this, some more of that, a dash of everything else and a few shakes later, he poured them each a glass of something fiery red and ice cold. If he hadn't been filthy rich and damn smart, Natasha mused to herself, Tony would make one hell of a bartender. He had the flair and the mixology skills necessary, as well as the over-sized ego and the charisma to charm the pants off any lady at the bar. The thought of him working in a bar made Nat smile and raise her glass, “Salud, Stark. Bottoms up.”

  She tipped the glass back, all but draining it before it burned the back of her throat and she began to cough slightly, trying to keep it together. Tony laughed and finished his in one gulp, setting the glass down as he watched. “What the _hell_ is that, Tony? What did you put in there?” He smirked, turning the bottles round to face her. “I call it fire whisky, appropriate, no? Some fire whisky for our resident fire ball. What, was it too strong? I'll make another, you can try it again.” She looked up at him after catching her breath and grabbed her glass, downing the rest. “We may as well, Tony. Another, if you please.”

  Tony looked at her with surprise at that. He hadn't expected the great super spy to be so willing to go round for round with him, but he was glad she was trying. “You really wanna do this, Tasha? You want to try and go round for round with the legendary Tony Stark?” He puffed up his chest and let it out with a laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously though, if you're gonna try to go round for round, I'm legally obligated to tell you that I survived the 80's. I can go pretty long and play pretty hard, Tasha.” She smirked at that, leaning close over the bar until her mouth was next to his ear. Grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him closer, she purred “Bring it on Tony. We're playing hooky, so let's play.”


End file.
